


KlanceWeek2k16

by goldveines, howdydarlin



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-07-29 03:42:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7668757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldveines/pseuds/goldveines, https://archiveofourown.org/users/howdydarlin/pseuds/howdydarlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>meet at a club au (smut alert)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> red/blue  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was supposed to be like 800 words i'm not even sorry

He had long ago lost track of what song was playing, letting instead his body do the work of his ears. He could feel the bass in his bones, judging song switches by the change in vibration. 

It was opening night at Allura's, and Keith promised weeks ago that he would be here. It was a comfortable enough environment; Allura walking around the club goers, Shiro behind the bar, and music too loud for anyone to complain about it being bad. All in all Keith would call it a successful opening night, though he wasn't exactly an expert on clubs or their openings. 

Keith put his hand up in mock salute to get Shiro's attention. He was in desperate need of another beer. Thankfully it didn't take more than the hand motion to grab the bartender's attention, and Shiro was already uncapping another for Keith. Shiro told him constantly that he needed to find another drink of choice, because beer was piss-water, and 'you definitely do not waist money on beer in a club'. This was why Keith defiantly ordered the cheapest, grittiest beer offered. 

"Don't cry to me when you're puking in the bathroom stall. This stuff is toxic," Shiro said, thinking along Keith's lines. When Keith went to retort, it was too late because Shiro was making his way to the other end of the bar so he could wait on customers there. He muffled a laugh with the mouth of the bottle before taking a defiant gulp, regardless of Shiro's lacking attention. It really did taste like piss-water. 

Keith nursed his drink, drawing out the inevitability of getting another; going sober wasn't option, and neither was a different drink. 

"Keith!"

The voice drew Keith out of his solace, which wasn't much considering the bodies crowding the area of the bar. 

"Keith," he found Allura parting her way through the people surrounding him, her face beaming when she reached him. "I'm glad you could make it," she exclaimed before drawing him in for a tight hug. Hugs and Keith didn't go together, but Allura was the constant exception to the unspoken rule. 

"How's it going," He returned as they broke from the hug. Up close he could see the beads of sweat on her forehead; she was clearly hard at work. Allura put so much detail into the night that she even matched her dress to the club's colors, purple and white.

"Great, especially since your here! Did you scope the crowd yet? Lots of potential, don't you think?" she teased with a wink. She was always saying that Keith needed to loosen up and get laid, because he was too broody or angsty--even directly after he had gotten laid.

"Alas," he feigned distress, "this beer has messed with my ability to sense potential. Though I shall persevere despite the rigors, if only to prove a point to Shiro." When Keith was done with his performance, he had the back of his hand on his forehead in damsel pose. He only broke it when Allura grinned at him. 

"Good thing then that I have been through this crowd with you in mind. I suggest him over there." She pointed to a man downing shots like they were water, his friends surrounding him cheered him on. 

"Too frat boy."

"You're no fun," she said with mock frown before continuing. "What about skinny jeans over there?" Allura was talking about the guy who had outworn the scene look when he lost his baby fat. The exaggerated look of disgust on Keith's face was enough for Allura to say, "Moving on."

"Alright, since you won't take any of the fun looking ones, what about good old-fashioned fun?" Keith raised an eyebrow. "See the guy dancing like Lady Gaga with her disco stick?" He nodded and she continued. "Now that's _fun._ " Allura finished. 

Keith couldn't deny the guy looked fun, or that he was dancing like sex. He could waste a few hours on this tonight. Keith set to work on finishing his beer, shitty as it tasted, which only made Allura smile as she danced away. 

Keith left the empty bottle at the bar when he made his way to the area of the dance floor that the man was occupying. It was awkward not only worming though the density of the crowd, but working up to dancing. Keith had always felt foolish going from zero to 100, not moving to outright dancing. 

When he managed his way to a rhythm that internalized the the beat of the bass, he remained at that spot of the dance floor. It was far enough from the stranger that a throng of people separated him and Keith, but close enough that Keith's view wasn't terribly obstructed. 

The hardest part of finding someone already on the dance floor was the approach. He had to manage to come off as appealing, and not horny with a probable case of whisky-dick. 

Keith was slow in his movement towards the man, wasting a few songs to get through the throng of people. He was glad he had forgone his signature jacket at the door. If he hadn't the inner fabric would stick to him while the rest moved freely, creating not only comfortableness from the heat, but from the feel of the fabric's friction against his skin. 

He languished in these minutes, where his partner-to-be didn't notice him yet. It meant a lot of work for Keith with no audience. Though thankfully, when Keith danced only a few people away, the man flicked his eyes to Keith's. Keith let the corners of his mouth turn up before looking away, letting himself be content with his own company. He counted to ten before turning his body to admire the stranger openly, waiting for their sights to lock again.

It didn't take long, only a few seconds, before their eyes found each other's. Now they both smiled, the stranger moving past one of the bodies that was in front of him. It was a careful dance that, apparently, neither was willing to mess with, no matter the clear intentions. 

Less than half a song later, Keith was the one to close the gap of bodies between them. Now they danced next to each other, pretending not to notice when they brushed up against one another.

On the precipice of dancing next to each other and dancing with each other, Keith called out over the music. 

"I'm Keith," he said with as devilish an expression as he could muster.

He imagined he did it well because the stranger responded with a smirk and, "Lance." 

It was the invitation both of them had been waiting for. They moved closer so that 'accidental' touches became a purposeful roll of the hips or hands running a feather-light down a bicep. 

Keith moved in even closer, letting one of his hands rest on Lance's neck, fingers brushing the edges of his hair. Lance replied in kind and tilted his head to the side, offering Keith the chance if he wanted it. He _wanted_ it. Keith let his body come close enough that it rarely broke from Lance's and let his head find a comfortable spot at Lance's neck, his lips brushing against the pulse there every few moves. 

Lance was brazenly undulating his hips against Keith's, drawing out gasps that Keith knew Lance could feel on the column of his throat. Keith let his lips part so he could ghost his teeth instead of the breathy and barely there kisses. Keith couldn't hear it, but he could feel the vibration of Lance's throat when he groaned, and it went straight to his dick. 

Lance's head seemed to be going in the same direction because his lips started working at Keith's neck, much more than the flimsy excuses Keith had been giving. It incited him to action, letting his teeth clamp down once before kissing his way around Lance's jaw.

Keith moved the hand that had been moving from shoulder to hip slide around Lance's back, slipping it into the confines of his back pocket and groping. Lance moved his hips with Keith's hand, causing more friction between them and a low "fuck" from Lance. 

"Mmm... Keith," Lance's voice sounded a little stertorous before he adjusted it, speaking lower, nearly slurring his words, "Keith, do you want to get out of here?"

Then it was Keith that was winded, giving a resounding, "Yes."

They worked their way through the crowd hand in hand, Lance in the front and turning back to Keith with a leading simper. Keith returned it fully, following after while shouldering past the swarm. At one point they passed Allura, who grined at them. 

Both had stored their jackets at coat check, and waited impatiently after giving the attendant their tickets. Lance and Keith seemed to recognize the oddity in their jackets, admiring each others as they're returned. 

Keith's signature jacket was **red** with a white stripe from collar to cuffs and a yellow one across the expanse of its chest. The strange part was that it cut off halfway down Keith's torso.

Lance's was a green cargo jacket with a white hood attached and an orange band across the right sleeve, an identifier Keith didn't recognize.

Their similarity lay in their loose nature, allowing the contrast between jacket and tight-fit jeans; something that both boys clearly enjoyed, though neither said anything on the matter. 

When they exited Allura's club, Lance offered location, "Yours? I've got two roommates." Keith nodded as he flagged down a cab. 

The comfort of anonymity made Keith bold, made him nearly surge after giving the driver a location. It was the first time Keith truly kissed Lance. He moved his tongue, asking for entrance and making a content sound when receiving it. Lance's fingers were tangled in Keith's hair--which, to be fair, wasn't a hard task considering it reached his shoulders, but Keith still was thrilled by it. 

They filled the minutes with variations of this until the cab driver cleared his throat and brought the car to a stop. Keith and Lance shared a blush while Keith dug out his wallet and handed over what the meter said. 

Keith led Lance up the stairs of his apartment complex, not stopping until the third floor for his apartment. 

There was a null moment when they finally got in the door and took their shoes off, both of them apprehensive of how to continue. Whether to keep the fast pace or slow down. Lance tried to fill the empty space by commenting finally on Keith's jacket.

"I gotta ask, what's the point of a jacket that doesn't even cover what a jacket should--I mean I'm not complaining about it but--"

Keith kissed him. Previously it was uncertainty that ruled Keith, but the filler had pushed him to decision. They moved haphazardly around Keith's apartment, Keith moving by feel and Lance blindly following. Keith dragged his hand against the wall as they staggered, his only way of guiding. 

When they found themselves in Keith's room, Keith slid his hands inside the shoulders of Lance's jacket to slowly move it down his arms. Lance expedited the process by taking it off himself, where Keith took the minute to take his own jacket off. 

"I'm just saying there's a design flaw," Lance said pointedly, then closing the space between their lips to stop Keith from saying anything back. Keith made a sound in annoyance.

Lance ignored it and worked his fingers deftly at the muscles in Keith's back after snaking his shirt up. Keith's own fingers worked at the waist of Lance's pants, traveling beneath the band and back up to the small of his back. They were in tandem, letting gasps and moans into each other's mouths. 

"Shirts," Lance said, breaking the kiss for only a moment before putting his lips on Keith's thrumming pulse. He worked a purple bruise into his neck and Keith moaned all the while, using the time to paw at the back of Lance's shirt. When Lance felt his shirt was high enough on his torso to constitute breaking their position he finished the job, pulling it over his head. Then Lance pulled Keith's shirt from his body.

They stood like that a second, appreciating. Keith broke the silence. 

"Why are we still standing?" When he saw the burn in Lance's eyes, he kissed him hard. Slowly, Keith moved them towards the bed. He didn't stop until he heard the soft thump of the mattress hitting the backs of Lance's calves. Keith pulled away and let his mouth upturn before pushing Lance down, chasing after him.

He let his mouth fall on Lance's collarbones, lapping his tongue at the hollow he found. His mouth slowly worked down Lance's chest, stopping to lavish at his nipple, to skirt his teeth across his ribs, and lick at his navel. When Keith's chin hit the metal of Lance's belt, he looked up. Lance was looking down at him, mouth open in silent gasp, eyelashes fanning across his cheek bones, and chest flushed. 

It's all the confirmation he needed to undo the belt buckle. Keith made quick work of it, soon after undoing his button and zipper as well. Lance helped him shimmy the pants down his legs. Keith abandoned them on the floor next to him.

Lance's underwear were a pale **blue** and Keith could see his dick straining the fabric, precome making a small circle of them nearly transparent. 

"Good kitty," Keith purred, making Lance twitch. 

Keith's hands were propelled forwards by the reaction, fingers coasting beneath the waistband and sliding them down to be put with Lance's pants. His length bobbed against his stomach before resting there. Lance fully naked while Keith was still mostly clothed was a thrill that made the tightness in his pants worse. 

He wrapped his hand around the base of Lance's cock and worked up and down a few times before leaning forward, laving at the precome on his tip. Lance's hips bucked up at the stimulus. Keith put his free hand on Lance's lower stomach to keep him still. Lance whined at that. 

Keith pulled up to say, "This is what you get for insulting my jacket," before returning to tease at his tip and occasionally change his grip at the base. 

"Jack ass," is the last thing Lance says before moaning low and filthy. Keith decided to shock him, following impulse to shut Lance up. Keith swallowed him whole, removing his hand from Lance's dick and resting it on Lance's left hip.

He bobbed his head, flattened his tongue, and hollowed his cheeks to draw sounds from Lance's throat. It wasn't long before Lance was muttering "I'm close--fuck I'm close."

Keith almost felt bad when he pulled away, even _wanted_ to feel bad when he heard the whine that came from Lance. 

"Patience," Keith said in attempt to settle Lance, which did anything but. 

He righted himself, leaning on his knees and shins so he could undo his own belt and pants. While he kicked them off, he leaned forward for both better ease and to kiss Lance. Lance moaned into the kiss because Keith's every move brushed up against his dick. 

Keith broke the kiss and leaned his forehead in the crook of Lance's neck and groaned as he palmed himself through his underwear. 

When he was fully hard, he lifted his head and said, "Turn over." Keith rolled his weight off of Lance so he could comply and reached to the night stand next to the bed. Keith rummaged before pulling out lube and a condom. He set the condom on top of the stand and kept the lube with him. 

Lance laid on his stomach and his head rested atop his folded arms, turned to the side so he could watch Keith. All Keith could see was golden skin and freckles for miles.

"Ready?"

"God, yes," Lance sighed. 

Keith moved to straddle Lance's thighs, his cock threatening to rub against his ass. Keith opened the cap and squeezed a portion of lube onto his fingers, then set it down on the bed beside him. He rubbed it between his hands to warm it up. 

When Keith's finger probed Lance's hole, his hips lifted a little to grant better access. Lance keened under Keith's hands, working his finger in and out, slowly adding a finger. Keith had three fingers in Lance when he hit the spot on Lance's prostate that made his thighs tense beneath Keith, toes curl, and his mouth to clamp down on the comforter to muffle the sound that escaped him.

Keith milked that spot until Lance was reduced to incoherence. 

"F-fuck. Right there. Oh god, there--yes there. 'm gonna come. I'm gonna come like this"

Yet again Keith pulled back before Lance got the chance to release. Lance's objection was lost in the the bed because he was face down and breathing hard. 

"What's that, kitten?" Lance lifted his head and craned his neck.

"I said, 'Just fuck me.'" Keith's laugh was more of a huff, but he moved to obey anyways. He leaned over Lance to reach the condom on the bed stand. Lance was watching him with wide eyes. Keith ripped the wrapper off the condom and rolled on his dick then grabbed the lube again to squeeze some onto his palm. While he rubbed the lube on him, he worked himself. Keith pressed his lips together and shut his eyes while he got fully hard again.

Keith looked down from where he stood over Lance when he was done and asked, "Ready?"

"Beyond." He rolled his hips into the bed for show before arching his back to put his ass in the air.

Keith stayed poised at Lance's entrance for a moment, savoring the scene.

Satisfied, Keith pushed himself in.

He had one hand wrapped around Lance's hip bone and another flat on his stomach, using is to pull himself closer at an agonizingly slow rate. Keith didn't stop until Lance could no longer keep his moans stifled by the mattress. Didn't stop until his hips were flush with Lance's hips. 

He stilled there and kissed at Lance's back, allowing a moment to adjust before pulling back and pushing in a little faster this time. The sounds Lance let out veered from low to high all at once as Keith picked up the pace. 

Lance had one hand still gripping the covers, but the other moved to tug himself off. 

The only sound in the apartment were those that they tore from each other's throats, the shift of the bed, and skin against skin. They came, Keith chasing after Lace, with cries of relief. 

Keith pulled out and removed the condom. He tied it in a knot and got up to throw it away. When he got back in the bed he cupped his hands around Lance's face and kissed him slow and hot, their tongues dancing together. 

Keith broke the kiss and asked "Stay the night, yeah?" He hadn't thought of it before or during, but now Keith wondered if Lance would leave. They hadn't even gotten under the covers, it was a likely possibility. One that Keith didn't want to happen.

Lance kissed him before saying, "Yes." Keith smiled into the next kiss. 

They fumbled to get under the covers, putting underwear on, throwing extra pillows on the ground, and un-tucking corners. Under the covers their bodies found each other again. They fell asleep with Lance wrapped around Keith, his mouth pressed to Keith's shoulder blade, and legs tangled into an impossible mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh i'm just really here for keith being besties with allura so i mean ignore that self indulgent part (like the whole thing wasn't). i also have a lot of feelings about keith saying 'good kitty' in the show.  
> \--  
> the rest of the week will be a continuation of this, not just one-shots  
> \--  
> thanks for reading :3


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> love/hate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for continuing the story, guys :)  
> \--  
> nothing smutty this chapter.

Keith woke to the afternoon-sun filtering through his blinds. It didn't take movement to know that the body that he had fallen asleep with last night was no longer there. He ignored the slight discomfort that brings him. 

He had been so concerned with the anxiety of where or not Lance would spend the night that he hadn't considered a hasty exit in the early morning before Keith woke. 

Keith stretched his limbs until he heard a pop in at least two of them, then laid still to practice at keeping his eyes open. A glance at the clock that hung on his wall told Keith that it was nearly noon. He wasn't shocked; when the chance to sleep was offered Keith took it. 

He managed his schooling, a job at the theater, and a job at planet fitness. What Keith didn't have in scholarships, he made up in hours at his two jobs. 

He was going to school for aviation. He could have gotten a job as a pilot with an associates, but Keith wanted to fly the big boys. Unfortunately for his bank account, the big boys almost always required a bachelors. Even more unfortunate was that Keith hadn't started on his degree until he was nearly twenty. 

So in sum, sleep was a scarce thing, always seeming to run from him. Somehow, though, he managed to free his schedule until Monday; no class, no planet fitness, no theater. 

While falling asleep last night, Keith considered that he and Lance might make a weekend of it all. Now he felt delusional. 

Deciding that he had spent enough time wallowing in his own not-quite-despair, Keith untangled himself from the sheets, grabbed his phone from the charger, and stumbled his way to the kitchen. A box of Reece's cereal was calling to him. 

They were mechanical movements, getting breakfast, because Keith had done it at all hours of the day. Coming home from the midnight shift at planet fitness, going to class at an obscene hour of the morning, or before the afternoon shift at the theater and his late class. Keith didn't stop until he had his cereal and was sitting at his dining room table, confronted with a note. 

It was in fast, scrawled handwriting, oddly filled, and read like this:

_Keith,_

_I tried to wait for you to wake up, but I had to get to work. (How can you sleep so hard? I tried to wake you up to say goodbye, but you just groaned and swatted me away.)_

_Anyways, what are you doing this Thursday around 7?_

_I get off at 3 today, so I won't pick up if you call--but you can text anytime!_

_-Lance (623-726-6150)_

_P.S. Hint: I am asking you out on a date._

Keith looked it over three times. 

Keith assumed most people left a few words that might verge on a sentence when leaving a note the morning after. Lance had left the intro to a twelve page essay. However, he couldn't say he didn't appreciate it. The feeling that Keith had been ignoring that morning was lifted higher from his chest after every read, and even more after putting Lance in his contacts.

Keith ate his Reece's with loud crunches and a feeling of contentment. 

He was about to drink the milk from his bowl when his phone chirped, signaling a text. Keith waited until he had downed the remnants of his breakfast before looking at it.

 **Allura** (11:49 am)  
_when you get your ass out of bed, meet shiro and i at his place._

 **Keith** (11:54 am)  
_be there in 20._

Keith took a shower, effectively washing the smell of sex away, then dressed. It still wasn't hot enough for him to consider going without his jacket, so he put it on over a gray t-shirt. It was the splash of color to his ensemble, considering his shirt, black jeans, and black boots. When Keith dressed like this he could see how Allura considered him 'angsty'. 

Shiro's place wasn't far enough that Keith felt the need to get a cab, only a ten minute walk. He spent it thinking about Thursday. He was, in fact, free around seven. The only things set in stone on Thursday were working the theater from 9-3, and class from 3:45-4:30. It was one of his freer days of the week, save for exceptions when Keith managed a weekend off. 

Shiro's studio was shoved between two buildings, one a flower shop and the other a Coney island. The nice part about the foot traffic was that his rent was cheap as hell. 

Keith rapped his knuckles against the door and waited a minute before he heard Allura cry out, "Honey, I'm home!" She opened the door and pulled him inside.

"Aren't I supposed to say that? Since, I don't know, I'm the one actually coming inside?"

"Oh stop being such a frump, play along. We're celebrating."

Evidence of this was clear by the wine on the coffee table and Shiro's slumped position on the couch, who clearly drank more than wine. 

Keith raised an eyebrow and made a skeptical face, "Didn't you have enough of alcohol last night?"

"No we, apparently, did not," Shiro answered. "She coerced me into this. I was happy to sleep the day away before she showed up." he hiccuped, only enunciating his abandon. 

"Takashi Shirogane," Allura said sternly. "I did not pour those drinks down your throat. Besides," her tone changed pleasant, "the celebration isn't just for me-- _or_ you." Allura clutched Keith's shoulders on either side, "Keith left with someone," she sang.

"I knew something was up when you didn't stick around the bar to prove your juvenile point about beer," Shiro slurred. 

"Sit down already and give us the dirty deets," Allura said. Keith complied, finding room at the end of the couch, squished between a leaning Shiro and the arm. Allura sat after him, choosing the smarter end where only Shiro's feet laid. 

"What do you want me to say?" Their whole exchange lasted a couple of hours at most, the rest of the time they slept. Plenty had happened in such a short amount of time, but Keith wasn't one for sharing exploits--regardless of how many times Allura sat him down to discuss them. 

"Everything--start from the beginning and spare no detail."

Shiro shifted his head on Keith's shoulder to look him in the eye, "Spare some details. Please."

Keith did his best to filter through things. He talked about how he made a careful approach. How he introduced himself, finding the stranger's name to be Lance. How it wasn't long before they were begging to get somewhere private. _Especially_ how Lance all but insulted his jacket. How most of the time at Keith's place was spent focused on Lance. How he woke up to an empty bed, but not empty note.

"Well? Did you text him yet?" Shiro asked, surprising Keith. He half-expected Shiro to ignore the story, possibly fall asleep in the middle of it. 

"No, he doesn't even get off for another two hours. What's the point?"

"To satisfy _our_ needs.," Allura emphasized, "Text him now, or else you'll wait to long and hurt him." Keith hadn't thought that it might hurt Lance if he waited to text. Though he should have, thinking back to this morning when he woke to an empty bed. 

Keith shimmied his arm down inside his pocket to grab his phone. 

**Keith** (12:48 pm)  
_thursday's good. what do you want to do? (hint: i am saying yes to the date.)_

Though Keith had not done it for Allura, he still said, "Happy?"

"Extremely. Did you read that, Shiro? They already have a thing!"

"A 'thing'?" Keith asked.

"The 'hint'. Lance said it in his note, and now you said it in your text! It's so cute," she gushed. 

"Yeah yeah, you're living your romantic life vicariously through me. You keep telling me to get laid, but it's you that needs it," Keith quipped. From there Shiro listed some of the best candidates with Keith making occasional suggestions. 

When Allura had enough of their 'nonsense', she poured Keith a glass of wine. She was a firm believer in the distinction between partying and celebrating, and wine was for celebrating. 

They wasted the afternoon away talking about last night's turn out, the pros and cons of dog ownership in a fairly new relationship (one being joint custody), Pluto's right to be a planet, and beard preference on a partner before Keith's phone rang. It would have been smarter to not answer, seeing as he was more than tipsy; but being that he was tipsy, he answered.

"Helloo," Keith drew out. 

"Ooh," exclaimed Allura before Keith could here Lance's reply, "is it your boy?" When Keith said nothing, Allura continued, "Oh, it must be. You're smiiiling!"

"Allura, shush. I am _trying_ to listen," Shiro said, leaning closer to Keith's face.

Keith scolded them both as well as he could before scooching as far as possible from Shiro, which was a small distance that made him feel no better about Shiro's ability to hear. "I'm sorry, Lance. I've got two very loud birds chirping at me," he tried to pronounce every word as though he weren't at least four glasses in. 

Lance laughed, "Well then, to spare them I will refrain from the phone sex I called to have."

"Heey, no fair. Don't punish me because of them," Keith whined. He really shouldn't have picked up the phone. 

"He's kinky," Shiro whisper-talked while pointing at the phone, at Lance. Allura giggled. 

Shiro's half-there intention of being quiet had no effect, and Lance could clearly hear it because he said, "Only on days that end in 'y'."

"God, I might as well put this on speaker. I'm," Keith grumbled as he tried to slip from his cove in the couch, "getting up." Again, Lance chucked. 

Keith walked to the bathroom, loudly shutting it behind him.

"I'm sorry. They are very drunk--but I guess I am too. Well, they are very nosy," Keith tried to explain. Then a brief moment of panic flooded him. "Oh god, you think I'm a drunk now. Three in the afternoon on a Saturday and I'm drunk. Well it's an exception, okay?" he rambled. "We're celebrating."

"Celebrating what?" He could hear the smile in Lance's voice. 

"I can't say. You'll laugh even more. Well actually, I can't say the whole of it. I can say some of it."

"Then I have to know all of it," Lance fake begged. 

Keith wished he had more reservations when he was drunk. He wished he hadn't said okay. 

"Well Shiro and Allura were celebrating a successful opening last night--did I tell you I knew the owner? I do, it's Allura. Shiro was the bartender. Anyways the part I'm not supposed to tell you--you gotta keep it secret--we're celebrating me. Finding someone last night." God, he was talkative when he drank wine. 

Lance let out a full sounding laugh before saying, "I will take it to my grave." There was more laughter before, "I promise I called you with intention, but this derailing was worth it. I **love** drunk you."

"Shut up. And I hope they were good intentions, because I am a," Keith cleared his throat for effect, "proper gentlemen who expects nothing less than one back." 

"I've known you less than a day, and I assure you 'proper' and 'gentlemen' don't fit the picture. However, 'pointless' and 'jacket' do."

"I should hang up on you for that," Keith said, mustering his most sober voice only to lose it to the quiet tone he took on, "but I won't. We have a date to plan." 

"We do," Lance replied, matching Keith's softness. "What have you never done before?"

Keith spoke truthfully, suggesting the first thing that came to his mind, "I've never been bowling."

"Well then. You. me. Thursday. Seven o'clock. Bowling."

"It's a date."

"I'll let you get back to your celebration," Lance mocked.

"Okay. Hint: I am going to text you later."

"Hint: I'll reply."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> heaven/hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nsfw, folks. watch out.

**Keith** (7:32 pm)  
_i am severely less drunk now. i am so sorry._

 **Keith's Boi** (7:35 pm)  
_it's been the best part of my day; no need to apologize ;)_

Keith groaned internally. When had Allura gotten to his phone? He hadn't even noticed it when he first texted Lance because there was already an open conversation. It took receiving Lance's text while his phone was locked, showing the sender, for Keith to notice what Allura had done. It was unlikely that Shiro was the culprit because Allura had been the one to call Lance 'his boy'. 

**Keith** (7:36 pm)  
_it's been brought to my attention approximately 30 secs ago that someone (likely allura) changed your name to 'keith's boi' in my phone. this needs to go._

 **Keith's Boi** (7:36 pm)  
_nooooooo don't. keep it._

 **Keith** (7:37 pm)  
_too late. already changed._

 **Kitty** (7:38 pm)  
_to whaaat????_

 **Keith** (7:38 pm)  
_i guess you'll have to wait until you can see my phone. (hint: you'll see it on thursday. along with me. ((you can't use me for just my phone)))_

 **Kitty** (7:39 pm)  
_i'm using you for more than just your phone (but i most definitely am not using you for your jacket)._

Keith made a vocal 'psh' sound. He would defend his jacket until his dying breath. From that text on it escalated to a perfectly ~~non-~~ civil argument. They spent at least fifteen minutes debating the pros and cons of Keith's jacket, one of the finer points being that, "You can't wear that jacket in space, and anything you can't wear in space isn't worth it."

He tried to argue that half of the human race's apparel wasn't effective in space, but was shut down with a "They would serve _some_ practical use; your jacket serves none." 

Never had someone expressed such unabashed dislike for his jacket before, especially when they liked it well enough. The night before Lance had more than said he appreciated what the jacket did for looks, but it didn't stop him creating a vendetta. 

**Keith** (8:03 pm)  
_now that we have decided my jacket is shitty (nottt), talk logistics to me: thursday_

Keith was drunk when making plans, and decided a good hang-up point was directly before figuring out any other details about their date. Seven and bowling were the bare bones. He had gone on dates with less, but he wanted a plan with Lance. Improvisation had the chance to go haywire, and Keith didn't want that to happen this time.

After a little while more of bickering, a few web searches, and lots of 'it's whatever you want's, they decided to brave bowling alley food while playing a few games. Neither had said it, but Keith had a suspicion that they would end up at either's place (likely Keith's considering what Lance said about his roommates). Just thinking about it made heat pool in his stomach. 

Last night, Keith had tried to focus almost entirely on Lance. His dick jumped at the thought of Lance's lips wrapped around it. When their replies slowed and they said their goodbyes, Keith laid in his bed palming himself through his underwear with eyes fluttered shut. 

He would have felt guilty if he had gotten off while texting Lance. It was a level of skeevy he didn't feel the need to cross. Maybe another time, when Lance was a participant on the other end of the line. God, just the thought made his cock leak. 

He reached beneath the band and grabbed himself, running his thumb along the slit and eliciting a catch in his breath. With his eyes closed, it was easy to imagine that it was Lance's hand that worked him. Easy to imagine Lance relishing in every hitch of breath, every twitch, and every moan. 

It wasn't long before he felt the tightening that preceded him spilling into his hand. Keith grabbed a tissue from his bed table to clean himself off, then got up to throw it away. When he saw himself in the mirror resting against the wall his way back to bed, he almost did feel guilty. He thought he would only feel guilty if he did it while talking to Lance. He was wrong.

He had just tugged himself off to someone he had known all of one day, fantasizing about something that _might_ happen on Thursday. It was entirely possible that they go back to Lance's and spend the night doing nothing in the company of his roommates. It was possible that they part ways at the alley. They started off with sex, but who said Lance wanted to continue at the fast rate? 

Keith needed to sleep. This was all getting caught up in his head with a million 'if's. It took him longer than it should have to shut his brain off, but at some point the thoughts tampered off and Keith found the solitude of sleep--which was the good part. Keith needed this long weekend to catch up on sleep. 

Waking up, however, was not a good part. For another morning, it was mechanical. Keith slowly desensitized himself to the day's worries and got a bowl of cereal at a time that was well past breakfast. While eating he created a list of things he needed to do before returning to the life of the living. He had to write a paper, submit an online assignment, do laundry, and sleep some more before Monday started. 

Mondays were never particularly bright and starry, but having a legitimate weekend had made him soft to them. Keith could already feel his body objecting to the process that was Sunday. He didn't understand how people could call it "Sunday Fun Day". It was just the end of the weekend, signalling that work had to be done so that Monday could be a little less horrible.

Keith's "Sunday Fun Day" started rocky, and only kept going on it's down-hill trajectory. 

He stubbed his toe on the coffee table not once, but twice while trying to run for his laptop charger and the highlighter cap that rolled from his stack of notes. He tried making pasta for a late lunch, but ended up burning the noodles to the bottom of the pan because he underestimated how long his timed assignment would take. He also fell asleep for 45 minutes on accident in the middle of a video he needed to watch for his paper. 

However, it looked up slightly when he received this text from Lance:

 **Kitty** (5:28 pm)  
_hint: i am clingy and will text you every day leading up to this date. and even after._

 **Keith** (5:39 pm)  
_hint: if i wasn't busy, i would have texted as soon as i woke up_

They didn't text after that, and Keith was okay with it. It didn't send him with varying degrees of paranoia that he had said something wrong or that things would go wrong before they even had their first date. It in fact helped him focus on finishing his laundry and paper so that he could call Lance after. 

Keith's eyes were blurry with exposure to his computer screen when he called Lance.

"Keith," Lance answered.

"I literally cannot see straight," Keith said in lieu of hello.

"I could point out that it might be because you aren't, but I won't."

"I think you just did," Keith tried to make his deadpan clear over the phone. It was not the first bad joke he had heard at the expense of his sexuality. (Thanks Shiro.) "What I was _trying_ to say was that I worked hard today. Calling you is my reward."

Lance was silent a moment before saying, "I can think of a few other things that might work as a reward." 

The suggestive tone he took on made Keith say, "Mm, like what?"

"Like what we could be doing right now if I didn't have to work at an obscene hour of morning."

"Oh the details, so scandalous. I might come from that," Keith matched Lance's tone. 

Instead of continuing the game, Lance said, "Did you think about me last night?" Keith wanted to blush from it. He had more than thought about Lance. His silence prompted Lance, "I thought about you." This time Keith didn't blush, but his breath felt hot and his pants a little tighter. 

"Yeah? What'd you think about?" Keith said, a little breathless. 

"I thought about you sucking my cock. My hand only did so much to play that out, but I managed to focus a little more on your teeth. I liked it when you bit me."

Keith's automatic response would have been, "Fucking vampire kink," but what did that say about him? Instead he let his hand drift to his thigh where his dick was trapped, shifting the pressure of his palm to alleviate some of the arousal, and said, "You're putting me through **hell** right now."

A chuff was heard, then, "Why? Tell me why." He was asking for it, and if Keith was honest, he had been since Lance mentioned it on the phone yesterday. 

"Because I couldn't go to sleep last night without jacking off, and now you're saying this shit, and it's making me hard, and I still can't see straight--" He was whining by the time Lance cut him off.

"Keith. Touch yourself." Those three words alone made him even harder. His erection was straining against his pants, and his already working hand wasn't helping. 

"I have been," Keith admitted impishly. He could picture the smirk that was plastered across Lance's face.

"Take off your pants; no need to make it harder on yourself--pun intended." Keith fumbled, trying to keep his phone between his shoulder and his ears, as he took his pants off. He stepped on the legs more than once and nearly fell over. The whole process drew several short laughs from Lance on the other end of the line. He moved from his sitting position on the couch so that he could lay down.

What Keith said was, "Okay," but he meant, "Tell me." He was trembling, waiting for Lance's next instruction. 

"Slide your underwear down--slowly--just past your ass." When he did it, he thought of Lance in this own apartment doing something apathetic as laundry or eating his dinner. It sent a thrill through his body. Lance must have heard Keith quit shuffling, because he said, "Wrap your hand around the base, and don't move."

The contact made him hiss, but he did as Lance asked, and didn't move. "I don't want you to move your hand. I want you to fuck it." Keith's tip leaked a bead of precome. "Start nice and lazy."

Keith obeyed, pushing himself a little deeper in the couch before lifting up to his fist. "Oh," he breathed. He did it again, this time pushing farther than before, hoping to touch a little more of himself. It worked to an extent, but not as much as he had wished for. 

"A little faster," Lance said, and Keith could tell he was enjoying this as much as he was, because his voice was thick and low. 

Keith gathered himself for a moment and then found a steady rhythm to rolls his hips to. He started to lose himself, moans escaping his throat whether he wanted them to or not. 

"Faster," Lance said, "Let me hear you, Keith." 

Keith was more than ready to do just that. He picked up his pace, and moans became grunts as he pushed himself further into his hand. "Fuck. Fuck, Lance. Lance, I'm close. I'm real close."

Lance, seeming to have been satisfied by the truth behind Keith's keens, graveled out, "Come." One word and he was lost, rutting against his un-moving hand. If earlier was **hell** , this was **heaven**. 

Keith came down from his high and laid panting on the couch. All he had to say was, "Fuck."

"Yeah," Lance agreed. 

It felt a little deathless, being caught in this moment of time where there was no paper due. Where there was no pasta burning. Where no highlighters were running. Where there was hope that maybe this was something.

"Hint: we are so doing that for real on Thursday," Keith said, forgetting his previous anxieties.

"Just try and stop me, Keith, just try and stop me." 

"I think I might just sleep now, sleep all the way till I have to get up in the morning."

"Good, if you're out cold then I can sneak in and burn that ever-loving jacket of yours."

Keith gaped, "That is number one on the list of things you do not do on a first date."

"Well technically, it's before the first date, so I seem to be in the clear."

"Bullshit, you are _not_ in the clear," Keith scorned.

"Goodniiight," he sang before Keith heard the click signalling the end of the call. 

He muttered, "Ass," to himself before setting his phone down. He decided he would sleep on the couch, not having he effort it took to move to his bed. He would regret it in the morning, but he would regret it more now. 

Keith used his underwear to clean himself up, then pulled the blanket from the back of the couch to cover himself. Maybe he would wake up with a kink in his neck, but all in all, Keith thought it wasn't a bad way to have ended a Sunday and start a Monday.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> free day (aka date night)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so sorry for the huge delay! i had some problems with my internet and whatnot, but hopefully i'll have 3 chapters up withing the next 24 hours to catch up.

"Kinky," Shiro said when Keith told him what happened last night between him and Lance. He had gone to meet Shiro at the club on Monday morning after they closed. Shiro texted him and told him he needed someone not currently begging for another drink, using flirtations to get it a little faster. 

" _Hot_ ," Keith corrected. "Monday never seemed so sweet."

"So while you were getting phone sex, I was pouring drinks for people beyond their abandon. Not. Fair." Shiro was wiping down the bar as he talked. The rest of the club workers were working on the floor and scarce tables. 

"In my own defense, there are plenty of people here every night vying for you attention. You just brush them off. Maybe," Keith said not for the first time, because he knew there was some truth to it, "You've got someone special already."

"You're delusional. Ludicrous." The way Shiro said it was tire and worn, because he, too, knew there was some truth to it. He had been pining after some guy named Matt. Keith had no other information that would have identified who Matt was, only that he was a year or two younger than Shiro. Keith had retrieved the information at his own expense, thoughtfully listening before rounding corners to face Shiro. 

Nonplussed, but still not diving in unless Shiro opened it, Keith dove on to Lance and his Thursday plans. Shiro asked where they planned to bowl, because apparently it was very important that they choose somewhere a little less family oriented if they were going on a date. Keith hadn't been aware that there even were alleys that weren't family oriented. 

Keith told him, "Dino's, up on third?" skeptically. 

Shiro was immediate in his vehemence, "No no no. That sounds like a cliche--just no." He thought a moment, then, "Go to Coran's. He's an old friend of Allura's, and his place will be perfect." 

Keith said a wary 'okay' and texted Lance about the change of plans, asking if it was okay. He texted back almost immediately, saying that location didn't matter to him whatsoever. It made him smile a little.

Eventually, the club was cleaned and shut down, leaving the workers--Keith included--to filter out. It was timed well, because Keith needed to get ready for work. It was theater duty today, and the projectors would run or, unfortunately for Keith, fix themselves. It was a little work, one that Keith sometimes enjoyed, but often found too meticulous and filled with impatience of others for him to fully lose himself.

Before punching his card in at the theater, he texted Lance quickly. 

**Keith** (8:53 am)  
 _hint: i'm not ignoring you, i'm working until 5._

He then pocketed his phone. It wasn't as if he couldn't text on the job if discreet, but he didn't want to risk the chance he couldn't. It felt like more than an asshole move to start a conversation, only to abandon it suddenly and without warning--regardless of whether or not Lance was aware of circumstance.

It was a tedious 8 hours, and Keith was very tired of the smell of popcorn. Newly twenty-two and he was beginning his career at an over-crowded theater. It felt more than disheartening, despite that he knew he was well on his way to the big leagues.

Keith had taken flight classes, and flown smaller planes than his future intention. He had become familiar with the interior of a cockpit. He had shadowed a pilot, and later interned with his place of work; only to be turned away when they no longer had time for a college kid to be wandering around. Thankfully, it had been after his required time was spent, but Keith was so upset that it took tangible form for weeks. 

Shiro and Allura had taken him on a weekend road trip to alleviate some of the hurt. It was nowhere in particular, just riding down south at an unhurried rate--something that reminded Keith of home. 

He wished he smelled the dust and felt the sun rather than popcorn and a false sense of superiority. 

Five hit, and Keith still worked. He should be in his car by now, but instead he remained to finish work on one of the projectors. It had stopped in the middle of a film, drawing much protest from the watchers, and free passes from the managers. Now Keith worked to right it in time for the next movie. It was an unacceptable thing that he not get it fixed, as one movie generated more profits than Keith would see in his next paycheck. 

A belt ended up needing to be replaced, which left Keith in the projection room until nearly 8. Twelve hours and shit pay for overtime; little to nothing. Maybe this was part of the reason he enjoyed very little about the process of projector maintenance. 

Before Keith exited the theater's parking lot to walk home, he checked his phone. A missed call and text from Lance. Of course, he had told Lance that he would be off at five, so calling at 6:30 should have been without issue. 

Keith hit call back and listened to the trill of ringing. 

Lance answered with a, "Someone was very busy." He didn't seem upset, which made the thrumming in Keith's head slow. 

"I had to stay late to fix a projector before the next film. I didn't even get it done in time; it was still an hour and a half too late for the next showing." Now that some of the panic had subsided, all Keith was left with was a bone-deep tired that could only be fixed by hours of sleep. Unfortunately, he had to go home and do last minute edits on his paper before class tomorrow. 

He concluded that, no matter how you start them, Monday's are shit. 

"Poor baby," Lance said in a way that Keith knew the sort of face he made, and managed to do it without sounding condescending. Keith continued on, voicing his thoughts about how he only wanted to sleep, but school hindered him. 

Keith departed from the theater, one hand shoved in his pocket, the other wrapped around his phone and holding it up to his ear. Lance talked with Keith about what he was going to school for, how long he had left, and the general suck of college. 

When he finally stood perched on the threshold of his apartment, he told Lance he really did need to edit his paper, but that he really didn't want to say goodbye. Lance said, "Then don't."

It was tedious, editing his paper, but made doable by Lance's mumbling here and there. Occasionally Keith would read a part aloud to see if it had the same flow he intended, and Lance would comment that he was utterly fucked because not a single word transpired to him; but that it did sound eloquent, he was just deeply unlearned in the art of flight. 

Keith felt successful with his paper by quarter past eleven, and declared that they should both probably sleep, because Lance had work and Keith had class. 

However, neither seemed to find the hurry in hanging up. Instead they got into their separate beds and talked, about nothing in particular, until the infrequent yawns became a regular thing. 

Lance, this time, said they should part ways for the night, "If I don't go to bed at this exact moment, I may never wake up again."

Keith was stupid with tiredness, "I won't allow it. If you don't wake up, we don't have a date."

"Hint: even if I wasn't to wake up in this next life time, I wouldn't miss our date." Lance sounded, too, befuddled by sleep and force an already sappy line into something sugar-sweet. 

"Hint: I wouldn't let you," his play at arrogance came out with a yawn splitting his words. 

"Goodnight, Keith."

"Goodnight Lance."

Keith woke to his alarm much earlier than he wanted it to feel. It was 5:30, and he had class in an hour. The only reason he took class this early was so that he could work in the afternoon. After class, he would work at planet fitness until 2. It was likely that Keith would work out some before leaving for home. 

When he got to his kitchen, he grabbed a banana and oatmeal instead of Recces. He had to be healthy some days, after all; and a day where he worked at a gym seemed like a fairly good idea, else wise he felt slightly guilty. 

His shower woke him up much more than the warm oatmeal had. At the end of it, he turned the water cold to bush off the final layer of sleep. 

Once dressed, Keith grabbed his bag (paper included) and started his walk to the building where his class was held. 

The professor ended up being late, claiming that this was an ungodly hour for him to be up (as if the students weren't feeling the same, only they felt it with few-hundred dollar holes in their pockets). It meant that class was extended slightly, and Keith was all but running to get to pf. 

Thankfully, their clock was a few minutes slow, and Keith punched his card in at 7:58. 

It was boring and rather uneventful. Perhaps the most colorful thing that a co-worker had asked him how to give a tour after months of working there, claiming a brain fart. And then also asking how to sign someone up for a membership. If he didn't get paid rather well, Keith would quit instantly. 

Dylan, the clueless co-worker, was not having a mishap of thoughts. He was genuinely someone that Keith couldn't find the effort to see past the exterior. Dylan had 'brain farts' more than once in the work day, let alone this one, where Keith was still bone tired--though he did not regret staying up to talk to Lance. 

Two o'clock came, and Keith punched out and changed into workout clothes. He didn't do anything extremely exerting for himself, but enough that he was ready to sleep more than he had been before the workout. 

When he got home and showered (he didn't like to shower at work, and would rather brave an uncomfortable walk home than the showers there), the texted Lance some. 

**Keith** (4:47 pm)  
 _i am ready. take me to an early grave._

 **Kitty** (4:53 pm)  
 _if i'm giving up a forever sleep for this date, you can give up death :*_

 **Keith** (4:55 pm)  
 _maybe like some temporary dying--like a 16 hour nap or something. i'm a freak for that._

 **Kitty** (4:56 pm)  
 _and i thought you were a freak for me. tsk._

 **Keith** (4:56 pm)  
 _okay yes but have you ever tasted this exhaustion because_

 **Kitty** (4:57 pm)  
 _sleep, then. i will find a way to go on without you and your (dumb) jacket for a night._

Keith complied happily, eating a small dinner and retreating to his bed for the night. 

Wednesday was a godsend of lazy movements. Though he did have to wake up at five for the early shift at planet fitness, he had an abundance of sleep that left him uncaring about it. The shift did not involve Dylan, which was amazing by itself. When he got off at one, he made his way to the theater, where he worked until close, which was around midnight (it was really a guessing game because theater-goers liked to make workers' lives hell, and it was Keith's job to stay until the very end of the last film to ensure no problems). 

At the end of the day, his extra sleep was gone and he weaned on the edge of consciousness. He stayed up only long enough to text Lance that he was finally home, and that he was going to sleep immediately.

Waking up Thursday was electric. If not already clear, Keith and mornings are not friends, but this was Thursday. Keith would see Lance today. 

Because of the elated feeling in the air, the theater didn't feel like a chore. Not even when he had to replace the same belt he had just replaced on Monday. The fix was larger than previously thought, but it couldn't be fixed until a part came in. 

And while he was in class, though some of the tiredness still sat on his bones, he found himself idly grinning. 

Lance had said he worked until 6 (Keith found out that Lance worked in transport between stores that supplied his companies product--a local organization), so Keith didn't text or call him. Instead he sat on his thumbs for a while before calling Shiro. 

"Dude, it's t-minus two hours and I am zero percent prepared. I think I might fall asleep in the middle of a lane--that's what they're called right? Not to mention I'll probably make a fool out of myself because--oh I don't know--I've never bowled before! And Lance has probably--" Shiro cut him off.

"Keith. Lance asked for something you had never done before. It's supposed to be cute; ya' know, like in the movies: guy wraps his arms around you and teaches you. The exact point here was that somehow, Lance was planning something cute for this."

 _Oh._ That was much more appetizing than the blunders Keith had thought up. It was those words that led him through the next two hour and walk to the bowling alley. 

By some stroke of luck, Lance was already there when Keith walked in, meaning that Keith didn't have to awkwardly wait and decide how the hell to navigate a bowling alley. He had been scrolling through his phone in the entrance to the alley, leaning against the wall and lost in his activity. 

Keith took the chance to start the date off right. He walked directly up to Lance, enough to draw his attention from his phone, and kissed him head-on. Keith could feel Lance smile into the kiss. 

When they broke they stared at each other a moment with twin looks. 

"Ready to bowl?" Lance asked, holding his hand out for Keith to grab. When Keith did, and said yes, he found that earlier anxieties were far lessened.

The only bowling alley they braved were nachos and soda. They grabbed their food and sat down at the table designated to their lane. This was when earlier anxieties resurfaced. He knew some things about bowling, like that you stuck three fingers into the wholes and half-threw it down the lane. That was the extent of 'some'. 

Regardless of this, he let his feet tangle with Lance's under the table. Being that it was on the forefront of his mind, Keith talked about how desperately tired he was, and Lance said that there was no tired in bowling. 

Lance went first, getting whatever a spare was in the first frame, and grinning at Keith on his way back to the table. Keith didn't know what it meant other than that it was good, so he leaned in for a quick kiss, "For excellent sportsmanship, because I am a team player," he said suggestively. Lance waggled his eyebrows at Keith as he went for the ball. 

When Lance asked if he needed help, despite Shiro's earlier comment, Keith said no. After all, competitive was in his nature. However, he should have swallowed his pride. Keith meant to release earlier, assuming he would do it too late, and ended up chucking it onto the lane with a thud. 

Lance's snort was heard clear from the spot where Keith stood, turning red. Before Keith could find any usable excuse or save, Lance was walking towards him. 

Lance cupped Keith's face for a kiss, and then, "You are a marvelous creature," with a spark in his eyes. 

The next try, Lance helped Keith as best he could without completely encircling him. Bowling wasn't the sort where one could do like baseball, or golf, or really any other sport.

His ball managed a wobbly path straight to the gutters, but was dramatically improved from it's previous hazard. 

They went on like that, trading kisses and improving Keith until they had bowled two games and deemed it quite the first experience. 

Keith rubbed his thumb on the backside of Lance and his intertwined hands as they walked towards his apartment. Their path to Keith's bedroom this time was much easier. They seemed to find a current that was in no rush to get where it intended. 

They laid on his bed and kissed until their lips were numb with feeling. They let their hands roam until they grew tired and found a spot to rest. they stayed awake until their hearts beat in tandem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> keith is a very tired boy okay


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ice/fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's so short! my laptop/internet just started working and i want to try and get this done tonight

Keith woke to an arm wrapped as tight as sleep would allow it around his waist, and a leg inserted between his own. He could feel the warmth of breath on his neck, and the tickle of short hairs. He smiled and brought himself a little closer. 

Neither man worked or had class until the afternoon, so they had all morning together. Keith was content to, for once, wake up early. It made a warm feeling spread through him. Not quite the **fire** of arousal, but the warmth of contentment.

Keith's hand searched for Lance's where it lay on his own stomach, to bring it up and lay his lips to Lance's knuckles. He did it carefully, so as not to wake Lance, but it ended up being for naught. Lance wasn't like Keith, couldn't sleep through the impossible. 

Keith heard the shift in breathing before Lance curled himself closer, pressing a kiss to Keith's shoulder. 

“Morning,” Keith said, and Lance replied the same in a haze. He hadn't quite wiped the sleep from his body, so his syllables were still rounded. 

Lance made to kiss Keith, slowly making his way up the column of Keith's neck and to his lips. Keith complied, but when pulling away made a disgusted face. 

“Morning Breath.” Lance told Keith what he thought about that by kissing him again. Keith pushed him off by the shoulders, rolling off the bed. “I'm brushing my teeth. Kiss me when you have.” And then after a moment of thought, “Extra toothbrushes are under the sink.”

He brushed his teeth while Lance remained tucked away in bed, and went to the kitchen. He could make something for Lance. Though he never did, Keith could cook fairly well—despite the noodle incident—and eggs were beyond easy. 

Keith fuddled with his pots and pans to find the right sized one and started the stove before getting the eggs from he fridge. He made a mental not, upon opening the fridge, to go shopping soon; he was running low on most of the essentials. 

He did, however, still have some. He decided upon ham and cheese omelets. He didn't ask Lance, but Lance had meat on the nachos as well as cheese, so he assumed vegan and vegetarian were out of the window. 

Keith was halfway done with the first one when Lance came to stand beside the stove, leaning against the counter. He stole a piece of ham that sit on a plate, seeming pleased with the about face Keith gave. 

“I make you breakfast, and you steal my materials. Gotta pay somehow,” Keith said, the face leaving and a new one taking its place, a more devilish one. Lance matched his face and leaned in with a smile. 

“Nope,” he said, abruptly pulling away and leaving Keith with lips parted. Lance left him, cold as **ice** before sitting at Keith's dining room table.

Keith let out a low chuckle before returning to the stove.

They ate with playful banter accompanying them. The two of them were well fed by the time their plates cleared, no doubt due to the fact that Keith had stuffed them to their limits. Cleaning up was rather domestic, with the sound of shuffling feet on the floor and the occasional clink of plates together. Keith found that he liked the domesticates that Lance seemed to bring right alongside the wild. 

When Keith reached to put the plates away, Lance came at his back, wrapping his arms around Keith's torso and slipping them inside his front pockets. He kissed the hollow of Keith's throat, lapping almost when he found the beat of his pulse. 

Keith let it go on for a minute, enjoying it, before wanting more. He turned, and Lance wasted no time in melding them. 

They fit like two puzzle pieces. Here it was again, the domestic paired with the wildness. Like **ice** and **fire**. It didn't matter though, because both spread through him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hero/villain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> almost done! (screw my internet) also, time jump!  
> \--  
> hopefully (if my internet doesn't crap out once again) post the last chapter tonight!

Keith didn't see Lance again until Saturday morning. It was a rushed meeting before the two of them went their separate ways, Lance to work and Keith to class. They went to a coney island and got a quick breakfast, parting with breathy kisses against the side of the building and 'Soon's. Keith felt alive in every way. He was unabashed in his like for Lance, finding him a constant source of conversation between Allura, Shiro, and himself. 

When Keith and Lance were together, Keith found himself both beyond nervous and brave. He did stupid things and Lance seemed to adhere to that. And, he found, he didn't quite mind when Lance would bash on his jacket for being completely without function. 

After their first date, they decided that the distance between meetings was far too grave. They would rather have hurried minutes than wait days at a time. It was no longer the obtuse pace of a new relationship.

Keith found this out by Lance saying obnoxiously, but rather sweetly considering his disposition, "When I say 'Boy', you say 'friend'." Keith had utterly failed by saying the whole word, but the point was brought across strongly, and it was crossing a threshold. Now the awkwardness was accepted as a way of being rather than Keith being nervous of every minute misstep or possible one. 

It was also how Keith changed Lance's name from 'Kitty' to 'Boyfriend' in his phone. Lance complained that he still didn't know what it was before, and he needed to know. Keith decided to let him live the pain of not knowing a while longer. 

They had been dating officially for three weeks when Keith woke up that morning. He had an obscenely early shift at the theater, because another projector needed maintenance--to be ready before they opened. He had complained about it last night to Lance over the phone, much like he normally did, and Lance soothed some of it by saying that he was off all day tomorrow and could meet Keith after work and before class.

Six in the morning was too early to be in the theater, him being the only employee in attendance. With a dejected sigh, he unlocked the employee entrance, shut off the alarm, and went to work.

At one, when he got off, he found Lance waiting for him on one of the pillars in the entrance with a coffee in his hand. Keith walked closer, and Lance held it out for him.

"You're my **hero** ," Keith said honestly. He needed at least twelve hours of sleep to function normally, and he almost never got even half that. 

"I know," he replied cheekily. And after a few heavy gulps, he leaned to kiss Lance. 

It only took a moment for Lance to pull away with exaggerated disgust, his explanation: "And you are not mine; you are a **villain**. I hate coffee," and finally, "It's a good thing I like you." Lance kissed Keith anyways.

They walked around the city for the rest of the afternoon, stopping for lunch at Jimmy John's because Keith had a weak spot for them. What happened after that left Keith nervous, as he usually was in uncontrollable circumstances. 

Keith had been to Lance's place, but he had never met the roommates--something purposeful on Lance's part so that they could be alone. Now, Lance was saying that Hunk and Pidge were home and needed desperately to meet Keith. Lance showed him the text from Hunk.

 **Hunk-a-lunk** (2:49 pm)  
_we're home and you're free: bring him back. it's been a month since you met him, let us._

Keith let out a shaky, "Okay," and they turned their feet towards Lance's place. 

Lance's place was full of that lived in quality that Keith never quite achieved by living on his own. Since he had started dating Lance, some of Lance's things remained and made it seem more lived in, but still mostly dull. There were parts of Keith's apartment, of course, that showed his own version of lived in, but it didn't have quite the same feel as Lance's. 

Lance's place had stacks of books linking the wall, ranging from the latest Black Widow comic to Russian poetry. The furniture was well lived in, but not to the point that it looked tacky--loved. The place looked well loved. 

Sitting on at the dining room table discussing the pros and cons of dinosaur chicken nuggets while eating them, were the infamous roommates, Hunk and Pidge. Keith and Lance's intrusion halted the discussion and their faces turned from serious to friendly smiles. 

"The illusive Keith," Pidge said getting up from the table and making his way towards the pair. Pidge was small and delicate, but demanded a certain presence. "Nice to meet you."

Keith held out a hand with an impish smile, "You too."

Pidge called out that he thought it nice to meet Keith too, but the hand shakes would have to wait until all the chicken nuggets were gone. Keith chuckled softly and told him it was perfectly okay. The three, Pidge, Lance, and Keith, found their spots in the free chairs at the table and got to friendly chatter. Little things that he had already discussed with Lance like, "Where do you work?" or "What are you going to school for?" or, un-shockingly, "What are your views on dinosaur chicken nuggets?"

They lazed there the entire afternoon, switching between probing subjects and watching a movie idly, Hunk hogging the popcorn unceremoniously. Keith and Lance sat squished together, though they didn't need to, and lazily played with their intertwined hands. When Keith finally got up and said his goodbyes, he didn't feel any sort of bad or nervous. In fact, Hunk, Pidge, and he had exchanged numbers. 

Lance walked him out, making sure to give him a proper send off.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> flowers/stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha i'm four days late :/ but this is the end:)  
> \--  
> a very short conclusion the the story

Keith fidgeted nervously with the collar of his jacket. It was new, not his signature red one. He had, in the effort of their anniversary, bought a new jacket. Apparently, all it took to get Keith to differ from his usual looks was one month.

One month since they had become official. Lance said he wanted to plan the evening, that Keith was to do nothing but show up. Of course, if this was his only job, he was going to do it correctly. 

Lance would be here any minute, and Keith would give him the gift he picked up earlier today. He picked it up on his way out of Shiro's place, thanking the convenience because if not he would have had to search for a shop without a line in it. 

Like the stopper to his thoughts, Lance knocked. Keith opened it and was rewarded with an appreciative smile paired with a once-over. 

"New jacket?"

"The other one served no practical purpose." Lance kissed him, slow and unhurried. When they broke, they stayed with their foreheads leaned together, breathing each other's air. 

"One month."

"One month," Lance sighed contently. 

Keith picked his forehead up, "I have a little gift." It was't much, because one month wasn't the biggest milestone in a relationship, but it was something. He went to his kitchen and returned with an arrangement of **flowers** , the main piece being blue irises. 

He held them out to Lance, who accepted them with another kiss. 

"Leave them here for now, because there's no place to put them where we're going." Keith obliges, finding a vase and filling it with water for the flowers.

Lance drags him to the stairwell, leading him up instead of down. Keith starts to ask, but Lance only shushes him. They don't stop until they get to the roof access door. 

Keith saw a blanket. Nothing more than that, just a blanket spread on the bare part of the roof. He stood waiting on the precipice until Lance grabbed his hand, walking him to the blanket. 

"We are having a night under the **stars** \--which is very hard to do in the city I'll have you know." 

They sat down on the blanket, twin looks towards the stars and fingers tangled. 

Keith moves first, placing open mouthed kisses to Lance's neck, slowly pushing them down on Lance's back. They move in no rush, hands sliding up and down bodies and mouths exploring. They take each other apart under the safety of the stars.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr: [goldveines](http://goldveines.tumblr.com/)


End file.
